Page 108 of Christmas in Coconut Creek

“Do I look like a fucking apostle to you, Natalia?” Cap replied humorously, setting his sights on O sitting in my lap again. “This one sure as hell ain’t the Virgin Mary.”

It took but one completely unexpected jibe to have me choking on a piece of ham. Worried eyes pinned me to the back of my chair as I beat my chest with a fist to dislodge it. So violently, actually, that my eyes started to water until I was crying, not only from the lack of oxygen, but from laughter, sucking in heaping gasps of air between fits.

It was clear that I wasn’t in any real danger, and Mateo’s joke still played on a loop, setting me off again once I’d caught my breath. A real, honest-to-God, howling laugh that I couldn’t restrain.

Ophelia’s girlish giggling joined mine. Behind it I could make out the deeper chuckle that was Mateo, stacked on top of Tally’s own warm bellow of amusement.

In the grand scheme of things it wasn’t even that funny, but sometimes things just tickled you the right way. Laughter indicated more than levity; it was a looking glass to happiness, fulfillment, pleasure.

I was a bubbling mixture of all of those things, finally spilling over.

31

“Okay.”Ipressedmyfingers to my lips. Hot tub jets sloshed warm water around my torso, and the only thing illuminating Frankie and I save for the full moon was a soft red glow of lights beneath the water. “Worst date you’ve ever been on?”

He stretched out across from me, hiding a humored smile behind the lip of a beer bottle. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“Oh, come on,” I flicked water at him and his jaw clenched as the splash trickled down his cheek. “Whatever your story is, I bet I could top it.”

“What are we betting?” He splayed both arms out on either edge of the tub until he was all broad chest and shoulders above water.

“Anything you want,” I offered evocatively.

Frankie's interest piqued, gears shifting in his head before a devious flare darkened his playful expression. “When I was twenty-two I was home on leave and decided to take a girl I met at the bar out for ice cream.”

“Very PG.” I smirked.

“I let it slip that I speak Spanish, and apparently she’d been trying to teach herself how to speak it for a while, fucking Rosetta Stone or some shit like that.”

“God, you are a dinosaur.”

“That’s enough commentary from the peanut gallery.” He splashed the water back in my direction. “Because she was learning, she insisted on communicating in Spanish for the entire date. Literally every sentence. I spent more time correcting her than having an actual conversation with her. It felt like a tutoring session.”

I covered my mouth. “You’re kidding.”

“Halfway through my cone I was faking brain freeze to put an end to it, but that’s not even the kicker.”

“Don’t tell me that.”

“When I eventually took her home, we pulled into the driveway at her parents’ house and she leaned over expecting a kiss.” Frankie snorted to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But doing that, she tipped her entire milkshake over and spilled sixteen ounces of chocolate malt into my fucking lap.”

“Nooooo.” I grimaced, holding onto a laugh.

“She was profusely apologetic—in Spanish still—very dedicated to the character. All while patting the crotch of my pants with a bundle of paper napkins like her life depended on it. And that is just not the sight a father wants to see when he looks out the window to make sure his daughter made it home safely from a date.”

My jaw unhinged, secondhand embarrassment flaming through my body.

“I take back what I said.” I cackled. “I don’t have anything that’ll top that. That’s the shit you see in movies.”

Frankie rubbed a hand down his face, smoothing down the fine hairs on his cheeks and above his lip. The tips of his shaggy hair were wet with condensation as steam lifted from the water, blanketing us in warm fog.

“I have a lot of stories.” His tone dipped into self-reflection as he picked at the label on his bottle. “Some good,mostbad and ugly.”

I tilted my head, demanding Frankie’s attention remain connected to mine. He was distancing himself from the deeper conversation we were on the precipice of. I wanted to meet him in the middle, but I didn’t want to push him too far.

“Do the jets feel good on your back?” I traversed gingerly.

Frankie’s lips twisted, his eyes thinning curiously. A silent understanding passed between us.

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